


A Sapphire Light

by auroreanrave



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cute, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2014-12-08
Packaged: 2018-02-27 11:51:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2691935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auroreanrave/pseuds/auroreanrave
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Robb panics, Sam becomes his new fake-fiancee, and a web of romantic lies ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Sapphire Light

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from the Dorothy Parker poem, 'Midnight'.

"Oh God." Robb is starting to sweat, because of course this would happen to him right now. Tonight of all nights.

Rachel has spotted him from across the gallery, her dark hair a waterfall down her back, and she's beautiful, but Robb is definitely verging onto 'panic mode' because the senior partners are here tonight and he really cannot be having an ex-related anaphylatic shock right now in the middle of a rented art gallery and in his rented Armani suit.

The night is one of his dad's ideas, of course; the Starks are prolific in their philanthropy and are holding this fundraising evening for one cause or another. Robb cannot really remember which in particular and the silver balloons tastefully dotted about the venue don't given any clues. His father had told him to invite the senior partners of Robb's law firm, and that would be fine if he wasn't dealing with his family and his ex all in the same room.

Arya is busy picking at her shoes as if she can magically transform them from sensible, age-appropriate heels into her mud-stained sneakers, and beside her Sansa is being chatted up by some beautiful blonde woman taller than Robb who keeps touching Sansa's arm and pointing at a painting of a medieval scene.

Along from them, Jon is busy talking with Sam, who has become all but family following his family's departure for southern climates and Robb's parents inviting Sam to stay, and Robb smiles a little wanly because he kind of wishes he had that connection.

Oh, God, Rachel is incoming. Their relationship had been serious for a while, but Rachel had been a touch too intense and they had broken up, citing a lack of compatability and they had studiously avoided one another. Until now, it seems.

And before Robb knows what he's doing, he's striding up to Sam and wrapping a hand around his arm and smiling at him in a way that says 'pleasant and charming' and not 'potential serial killer'.

"Robb?"

"I need a massive favour for the next few minutes."

Sam blinks. "Oh. Alright. Yes, of course."

"I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend."

Sam's eyebrows rise wildly and he looks on the verge of arguing as to why when Rachel emerges from a crowd of Fauvist afficionados and smiles warmly at Robb. "Robb!"

Robb smiles, his hand heavy and warm on Sam's arm. "Rachel. A pleasure."

"And who is this?" Rachel's attention turns to Sam.

"I'm Sam. Robb's fiancee." Sam says amiably, leaning forward to shake her hand and Robb blinks in surprise because they had suddenly jumped from fake boyfriends to fake 'soon-to-be-married' but he manages a hopefully charming smile in response to Rachel's wide-eyed expression of surprise, and a look of what he hopes is love towards Sam.

"Wow, Robb. I didn't know you, er... played for both teams. Go you." Rachel manages, looking into the depths of her champagne flute, a flush rising on her cheeks, and Robb feels a little rush of triumphant warmth at this working. He's feeling a little bit petty, he admits, but Sam is talking to Rachel.

"...met through his brother Jon. We work together." Sam smiles, and that bit's true at least. Sam and Jon work together at the same video game company (Sam works on the story development side of things, Jon works on the game dynamics, with a penchant for combat) and even got positions at the same time.

"That's so sweet. Robb, it's been nice seeing you. We should all do dinner sometime." Rachel smiles, squeezes Robb's hand and then Sam's, before moving off to greet a new arrival, the flush on her cheeks fading.

"Sam, I am so sorry about that," Robb says as soon as Rachel is out of earshot. Sam is a little pink and flushed and takes a drink from his own glass.

"No, no, that's fine - just a little strange. You know," Sam smiles at Robb, "being someone's fiancee."

Robb smiles back, raising his own glass. "Well, if I was going to pick anyone to be my fake fiancee, you'd be at the top of the list."

They clink glasses and head over to a canvas, and if Sam looks more than a little flushed well into the rest of the evening, Robb is grateful enough not to comment on it.

\---

And then it happens again.

It's another benefit, but this time Robb's family are the guests, rather than the hosts. The venue is a restaurant, all bright lights and glass and chrome that cost more than Robb's entire university education. Robb is scared of leaving fingerprints in case they charge him for their removal by a lambskin cloth or something.

Everyone's there, because it's been a while since their last night out as a family, and as Catelyn, Robb's mother, so succintly put it three days ago when she'd announced their presence at the benefit would be required, "I'd like one family outing that doesn't involve a pizza parlour or a fight so you will wear the clothes and smile and behave." No one had dared argue, not even Robb's dad.

Robb's been keeping an eye on everyone and they seem... okay, for the time being. Arya has avoided kicking anyone in her heels or practising her fencing moves, and Sansa appears to have dissuaded the young blond man who kept getting into her personal space by delivering a particularly scathing and graphic history of medieval warriors and their deaths.

Still, the night was young. And Rachel was at the other end of the restaurant, smiling and discussing something, to Robb's abject horror.

"Oh, look it's your friend." Sam says from behind Robb's shoulder, and Robb manages to stop himself leaping a foot in the air by gripping onto the chrome handrail separating the groups of tables. Sam is sipping from a champagne flute full of what appears to be Diet Pepsi.

"Can I ask another favour? Well, it's actually the same favour, but again?" Robb says, and Sam blinks a little before he sees Robb's half-glances at Rachel and the penny drops.

"Oh! Um. Okay? Yes, sure, I mean - absolutely." Sam smiles pleasantly. "So what do you need to do?"

"Be your usual charming self." Robb straightens Sam's tie, brushing the skin of his neck and he's so close he can feel Sam's warmth pressing along his front and the chemical sweetness of his breath. It's... distracting in a way Robb can't afford to be distracted by right now.

"Okay. Any cute anecdotes we need to wheel out?"

"We just had a weekend together in the beach house. Walks on the beach and berry picking and whatever." Sam has been to the beach house on the coast a lot as part of the family, so that helps. No need for filling in fake details or whatever.

Rachel appears just as Sam is flicking something that could be a toast crumb out of Robb's hair - "How do you have toast in your hair? Not that you hair isn't curly and strong enough to support it but have you had this in your hair since this morning?" - and smiles at the pair. She's wearing wrap-round Rodarte in autumnal shades that compliment her dark hair.

"Nice to see you again." Sam smiles at Rachel, breaking off from his ministrations in Robb's hair to kiss her on the cheek. Robb doesn't feel inappropriately jealous at all, wrapping an arm around Sam's waist, reeling him back in.

"I have to admit that the food is a little better than the last time I saw you two," Rachel says, picking at a quiche the size of a dime and popping it into her mouth, "although the company is just as good."

Robb's smile is thin. "So what's your interest here?"

"I'm one of the organisers of the whole series of events. Dinners, opera showings, we're aiming to promote cultural differences in the city and ensuring we can help those less fortunate. Right up your alley." It is really up Robb's street - he loves taking on those pro bono cases, far more than his annual minimum, and so he takes one of the pamphlets scattered around and begins to seriously peruse it while Sam and Rachel head over to one of the assembled men in suits - a tall, handsome man who grins and gesticulates and introduces himself as Oberyn.

The evening goes much smoother after that; Robb and Sam don't leave each other's sides for long after that, and when the guests begin to disperse after the three additional speeches and obligatory dancing, Robb and Sam head out and Sam takes Robb to an all-night diner he knows, as a thank you from Robb. It's bright against the dark night, and vintage, all neon signs and Hollywood paraphenalia, and Robb immediately falls for it.

They grab a booth, the waitress - _Mya_ , the cheap plastic nametag pinned above her heart reads - greeting Sam like an old friend and supplying them both with oversized salted caramel milkshakes, burgers, cheese fries and slices of strawberry pie to make up for all the picnic food at the event.

"Thank you. For this." Robb says. His tie is loose around his neck, his shirt is untucked and possibly spattered wth sauce from the burger, and his mouth definitely has some splatter from the milkshake across his lips, but he feels absolutely at home here with Sam.

"It's just food. Very good food, admittedly."

"No, the fake marriage thing. You didn't have to do it. Rachel... she's pretty terrifying taking her on her own."

Sam smiles. "I can sort of see that, but... are you sure she's the same girl? I remember Jon and you talking about her and she always seemed like a monster. Something from myth. The girl I met? She seems nice and normal and..."

Robb snorts into his milkshake, only to find Sam arching an eyebrow up at him. "And you're saying she couldn't have possibly changed?"

"I suppose not. But you didn't date her."

"True. I had only one brief experience dating a girl and that was enough for me." Robb is sort of aware of this, but to hear it out loud does something weird to Robb's insides. He knows that Sam is gay, that he's had boyfriends before. The most serious of them - some blonde fratboy douchebag with muscles - had met Robb once and Robb had taken an instant dislike to him. He and Sam had broken up a week or so afterwards and Jon had taken Sam out that week to get him royally drunk as a way of curing his heartbreak.

"Fair enough. Whatever floats your boat." Robb says amiably, because they're having such a good time that he wants to avoid any kind of awkwardness on either of their parts.

"Jon said the same thing. When I told him." Sam smiles, fondly. Jon and Sam are best friends, and Robb is glad, because both of them needed a friend - shitty loneliness in middle school makes for unusual bedfellows, but since then they'd been inseperable and almost embarrassingly codependent.

They move on to talk about Sansa's upcoming musical theatre production, and Arya's graduation in a few months time, and it's all so warm and domestic that Robb lets himself forget for a minute that this is all a facade of the finest gossamer.

**\---**

Sam and Robb never actually get round to telling the rest of Robb's family about the faking-your-engagement thing. It's not that it never idly comes up in conversation between the two of them, usually when sat on the couch waiting for Jon to finish his homework in time for an action movie.

It's weird, to say the least. Robb thinks Sansa might suspect something, because she's always had a weird intuition for things like this, but she never outright says anything. Which Robb is infinitely thankful for.

One night, he gets a text from Jon, telling him that the older siblings are all sneaking out to see a movie at the renovated drive-in that opened a few months ago. Robb agrees to go, partially because he wants to make sure that no one hassles his brothers and sisters, but also because he hasn't done anything fun on a Friday night in forever.

The night is dark and starry, and Robb ends up in the flatbed of Jon's truck - which he insists on keeping no matter what - and has Arya's own truck parked beside it. Arya and her friends Hot Pie (don't ask, Arya told him when he inquired) and Gendry tucked in on her flatbed. Robb is sat with Sansa and Jon and Sam.

Sansa lays at the foot of the flatbed, watching the screen rapturously, while Sam sits wedged between Jon and Robb. The movie is great - one of Robb's favourites from the 1950s - and he feels loose and relaxed. Work is behind him, and he's happy.

Sam's hand brushes the back of his as he stretches forward to pass something to Sansa. As Sam leans back, he smiles at Robb, warm and familiar, and Robb's serenity begins to tremble a little.

He sits with his hands folded determinedly over his lap, and even when Sam falls asleep onto Robb's shoulder, Robb stays as still as he can.

\---

The Starks' home in the Hamptons is nice - certainly not as nice as the ones the Lannisters have, which is about the size of a small principality, but it used to belong to Catelyn's sister, Robb's aunt, Lysa through her rich husband before the husband died and Lysa retired to the suburbs to homeschool little Robert, leaving the beachfront property to the Starks.

The house is big, spacious, and is right on the seafront so that when they pull up, Arya, Bran and Rickon don't even wait to unpack before they burst out of the car, rushing straight down to the shore and jumping into the sea.

Robb's looking forward to the break, he really is; two weeks with nothing but a collection of books he always buys on lunch breaks and means to read, and an iPod full of his favourite music, and Sam, because... well, recently the idea of spending time with Sam outside of work has become more and more of a desirable activity, to the point where Robb is all but waiting for the first mornings when they'll park themselves in sun loungers and read together.

Okay, he might be taking this whole 'fake married' thing a little far.

He won't go so far to say he's 'emotionally compromised' as Arya might say, unblinking and quoting her latest action movie favourites, but he might be... a little bit closer to Sam then he was before.

He definitely hasn't masturbated thinking about him. Nope. No way.

Not really.

Shit, Robb's really in deep here. He spends the first two days of the vacation watching Sam read and yawn and when Sam finally feels comfortable enough to peel off his tee shirt, Robb has to focus hard on the book in his hands so he doesn't give in to the irrational desire to lick a stripe across Sam's pale shoulders to make him shiver.

Sam takes pictures of everything on his iPhone - Jon's old one with a new skin and several upgrades to the operating system - and sends them to his Facebook and Twitter; Robb happily poses for everything Sam tells him to, even with oversized sunglasses and mock frown on his face. They laugh a hell of a lot.

In the end, by the end of the third day, Robb has ploughed through the last tome of the 'Dark Tower' series, done two comparisons with Sam of King's best work (Robb loves 'The Shining'; Sam has a thing for 'The Stand'), and fantasised about Sam approximately fifty seven times on the beach alone.

It's hell, really.

Later that evening, Sam turns to Robb at the dining table, forkful of greens halfway to his mouth - "Jon and Sansa and I were talking about heading up the coast to see the market town. You in?"

Robb recovers enough to mumble, "Sure," and cram a chunk of well-cooked lamb into his mouth before anymore comes spilling out. Sam smiles at him and turns back to Jon and their discussion about video games.

That night, Robb is checking his emails - one thing from work, a ton of spam, a promotional newsletter from a porn website he checked out once - when an email pops in, from Newton Grainger. Newton is a well-known, well-regarded client around the firm, with a brain like a pinball manchine and an obscene amount of cash. Newton is friendly and weird and always comes to meet Robb with an unusual food item for him to try.

The email tells Robb about a party he's holding for a couple of wealthy clients interested in investing in the firm. Nothing too fancy; apparently the clients are a couple of dotcom millionaires with trust funds burning holes in their pockets, and are, according to Newton, 'low-key fucking hipster types'. The menu will be locally caught fish and organic preserves, that sort of thing.

Robb replies to the email, saying he'd be happy to attend. There's no plans for dinner the evening of the party, and seconds later, another email from Newton pops in. Asking if he's going to bring his fiancee or not.

Oh. Shit.

Apparently the news of Sam as his 'fiancee' has spread throughout most of Robb's other connections. He's surprised he hasn't had passive-aggressive texts about wedding invitations and the lack thereof, or someone at the office sending emails full of links to wedding bakeries and planners in an effort to helpful.

Robb decides to bite the bullet. He does it through texting, but it's still brave and decisive. In a way. He texts Sam, explaining the situation and asking if he will join Robb for dinner.

 _I'm downstairs_ , Sam replies a minute later. A clear invitation to actually discuss this. Robb stood from his chair, closed his laptop to put it on standby, straightened his hair, made sure his tee shirt and shorts balanced the line between casually attractive and decent, and went downstairs, breath a little strained, because apparently the idea of having a one-to-one discussion with Sam was the scariest thing in the world.

Downstairs, Robb finds Sam alone in the lounge. The lounge is all warm neutral tones, a TV on the wall, and deep leather couches with strong frames for Ned's bad back. All the light in the room comes from the fire flickering in the fireplace; the TV displays the black screen of a radio station coming through, soft ambient music.

Sam has his head lolled against the back of the couch he's curled up on, and Robb takes a minute to look because this punches into his heart. Sam looks so warm and sweet and domestic; as if he's fallen asleep waiting for Robb to come from the office, or they've just spent a lazy Saturday, and Sam is waiting for Robb to come with popcorn and a movie.

"Sam," Robb manages to choke out. Sam raises his head, and smiles sleepily, and shifts a little so that Robb has plenty of room on the couch.

"So... you need me to do the fiancee thing again?" Sam asks, and his eyes are warm and reflected into the glow of the fire, and Robb wants nothing more in the world but to press his hand to Sam's cheek and kiss him.

"If you wouldn't mind? It's a work thing and I'll understand if you have something with Jon, but..."

"No, no, it's fine, just... you now. If we keep this up any longer, we'll have to actually get married."

"I know." Robb agrees, despite the flood of images pouring into his brain. He and Sam at the altar, exchanging rings and promises and kisses, and it makes the realisation that Sam is ust doing this for show, that Sam doesn't really love him, all the colder and harder.

"And besides, I'm sure there's plenty of eligibles out there, waiting for a chance to date the one and only Robb Stark." Sam makes tiny jazz hands, smiling, and the smile doesn't reach his eyes. Robb doesn't know why, just nods blankly.

Sam smiles and settles back into the couch, offering the spot next to him, and Robb takes it. He spends the next hour or so watching Sam out of the corner of his eye, cold in the pit of his stomach.

He doesn't sleep much that night, and watches the sun rise from his bedroom window, before he does.

\---

The night of the dinner arrives, and Robb is stood out on the veranda deck, at the top of the set of steps that lead down to the beaten path, that forks out onto the beach, and onto the road. He's wearing his nicest smart-casual suit, with an ocean blue shirt that Sansa picked out and that his mother approved of. His hair is fine, and he looks good, and he's absolutely terrified of himself, about the evening ahead.

Sam appears about twenty minutes before they have to leave, and... fuck he looks good. Sam's wearing a brand new suit - or at least one that Robb hasn't seen before, which is unlikely. He's flushed with warmth, and smells great, and the cut of the suit is fantastic, highlighting his broad shoulders and cute ass.

"Do I look alright? Your dad suggested this shirt." Sam's hand goes to the shirt, to his belly, and Robb's eyes are drawn there. Sam is - fuck, he looks amazing. Robb isn't going to be able to keep his hands to himself tonight. Not even in their 'fake couple allowed safe zones'.

"Yeah, you look... you look great." Robb manages. He starts to move forward, when Sam's hands suddenly move to his throat and Robb freezes.

"I have no idea how you manage not to tie a proper Windsor knot at least once." Sam's hands are warm around the black necktie that Robb had draped around his neck without, apparently, tying it.

"They're all done and I have them just hanging over my doorknob." Robb lies, easily. He knows how to tie a necktie, but he's not risking Sam's hands leaving his immediate proximity.

Sam finishes up the tie, draping it in a thick Windsor knot, and his hands linger for a moment on Robb's chest, before he steps away, leaving behind an impression of warmth on his chest.

Robb opens his mouth to say something - say anything, really - but then the door opens behind them, a sliding glass panel that leads out onto the deck, and Robb's mother appears, and begins fussing over the two of them.

Sam's fake wedding ring burn hotly in Robb's suit pocket.

\---

The dinner party goes off perfectly. The jazz is inoffensive and gentle, wafting over the conversations of the assembled guests, and the food is delicious. Sam sits by Robb all evening, laughing at his jokes and poking at his upper arm to make a point in a story and brushing bruschetta crumbs from Robb's jacket.

Dessert rolls around before attention turns to Robb and Sam, who are demolishing their chocolate torte and mocha mousse with gusto.

"So, Robb," Jemma asks, her blonde hair reflecting in the candlelight, her smile wide and genuine, and her Oxford accent crisp and light, "how did you and the lovely Sam meet?"

"Through Robb's brother Jon. Jon and I have been best friends for years, and as I spent more and more time at Jon's, Robb and I got to know one another. We've been together for..." Sam trails off, and Robb takes his cue.

"For about two years now? More than that. Almost three in November." Robb smiles at Sam, and they lean into each other's space. It's frightening how good they are at faking this kind of intimacy. It feels real.

"First date was... I don't even think we knew it was a date, really." Sam is smiling, head bowed a little. "We ended up meeting after work at a coffee place to discuss what to get Jon for his birthday which was a few weeks away, and then we just... moved on to dinner."

"That's so sweet," Jemma enthuses, leaning into her husband's arm. It's an unconscious gesture, one that Robb focuses a little too strongly on. His arm around the back of Sam's chair feels a little forced. "You two are perfect for each other."

The conversation moves on a moment later, turning to Elijiah from Accounting's new baby, and the moment is gone. Soon they're abandoning the dining table, more people coming in and joining the official 'party' part of the evening.

Music starts to play, flicking through genres, and people start to dance.

Sam offers his hand to Robb. "Come on."

"I don't dance."

"I'll show you." Sam hauls Robb up out of his seat, leading out onto a relatively quiet part of the makeshift dancefloor, and shows him a basic tango to the incongruous sounds of the pop song coming out of the high-end speakers. Sam's cheek presses to his own and Robb barely resists leaning into Sam more than he already is.

After half an hour, Sam's left to grab some drinks, when a slim hand lands on Robb's arm. He turns. It's Rachel, smiling and sincere, in a beautiful sky blue dress.

"Rachel. Hi."

"Hi. Nice to see you. Is Sam here?"

"Yeah, he's just getting some drinks." Robb smiles. He's happy, happier than he's been in a long time, even if it's built on a lie.

"Rachel..." He begins, because he needs to say this, words bubbling forth. "Rachel, I just wanted to say that... I'm sorry we left things badly when we broke up. It was shitty of me."

Rachel's smile becomes smaller, but warmer. "It's alright. Don't get me wrong, I was... pissed at you. But it's fine. Really. I was kind of awful too. And I'm happy for you and Sam. Genuinely. Besides, I've been seeing a guy I wouldn't have met if..."

"If we didn't break up. I'm glad he makes you happy." Robb follows Rachel's gaze to a man standing on the other side of the room, nervously sipping from his champagne flute and looking at the pair of them.

Robb looks down at her. Rachel doesn't seem like the monster he built up after their breakup. She looks like a girl he once loved, and a girl he still does in a different way. He just wants her to be happy. Her eyes are warm and soft as she looks at her boyfriend, and Robb knows that she is.

"I'm glad we're friends." He leans down and kisses her on the cheek. Rachel kisses him back, and then she moves on with a little wave, back to her boyfriend.

Robb looks around. Sam is nowhere to be found.

Another hand is on his shoulder, and Robb turns, but it's Jemma.

"Robb, I think I saw Sam go down towards the beach. He looked upset." Robb nods, distracted, and follows her pointed direction. He walks out onto the balcony, and heads down onto the sloping, spiralling steps that lead down onto the shore.

Robb races down onto the beach, hopping down the short set of wooden steps that lead down onto the sand. Sam is walking slowly down the surf. Robb grabs hold of his shoulder, spinning Sam around. Sam has his shoes in his hand, socks tucked inside so his bare feet can walk in the sand.

"Sam, what's wrong?" Robb's worried, because Sam had looked so upset at the party, and all Robb can see is Sam's face and Jemma's words ringing in his ears. _You two are perfect for each other._

"Please, Sam, just - just tell me what is wrong and I can fix it." Robb pleads, his voice becoming rough and broken, and he's scared because Sam is clearly upset, and it physically burns at Robb, like a brand under his skin that hurts him like nothing he's felt before.

"Don't you get it? This wasn't a thing for me, this was me getting the chance to live out a life I can't have because I love you, okay?" Sam yells, on the verge of anger, this uncommon emotion colouring his words. "I've loved you for months and, and you're going to get back with Rachel, and I've had to be your fake fiancee when all I've wanted to do is - "

Robb doesn't remember moving forward, nor cupping Sam's face in his hands. He remembers Sam's words. He remembers kissing him, however, full and sweet and sweeping, because the stars have aligned to give the two of them something and Robb is not going waste another stupid second worrying and waiting and restraining himself.

Sam's mouth opens up, finally, Sam's hands sliding to Robb's neck, and Robb presses forward, arms sliding around to lock Sam into place because he isn't going away, not for a second. He thinks they might tumble into the sand if they're not careful, and keeps their balance. He doesn't want the best moment of his life to be undercut by getting sand in unmentionable places or ruining his suit.

They break apart, moments later, and Robb slides his mouth along Sam's cheek, his jaw, anywhere he can find, to mark him and breathe him in. High above them, the moonlight has become translucent, sapphire and silver in its beauty. A vaulted ceiling in fathomless blue and starlight.

"I love you," Robb murmus against the curve of Sam's cheek, and he can feel Sam's smile, so he kisses him again. "I love you. I love you."

"Everyone's going to give us hell about this, aren't they?" Sam says, and Robb snorts. He suspects most of them know already.

"I think I can cope with it." Robb grins.

\---

In the end, Robb buys Sam a brand new ring. After all, this engagement's real.


End file.
